Captain's Favorite
by PureReflection
Summary: Charlie Weasley remembers the time he was Angelina Johnson's first Quidditch captain. Mild FredAngelina references. DH spoilers.


_Disclaimer: It's all JK Rowling's, of course. Accordingly, I've attempted to make the timeline here consistent with as much of her writing as possible. The HP Lexicon and JK's own statements about the Weasley children's ages suggest that Charlie's seventh year at Hogwarts was the year before Harry et al. arrived. I've attempted to reconcile this with first-book facts that Gryffindor hasn't won the cup 'since Charlie left,' that Gryffindor was 'flattened' in the last match with Slytherin before Harry arrived (according to Professor McGonagall), and that Oliver Wood must have given at least one pep talk before Harry's first match (by which time Fred and George knew it 'by heart') by suggesting that the timetable of Charlie's Romanian work contract required a special and slightly early leave from Hogwarts. At any rate, enjoy :-) _

**Captain's Favorite**

She had been a favorite of his since her Quidditch trial. Of course, he and his Keeper had always pleasantly disagreed on his evaluation methods. Wood, no less fanatical about 'results' in his fourth year than he'd been in his third, never fully understood why the most successful Seeker in Hogwarts' modern history sometimes didn't seem to care about the numbers at all.

'Not bad, that last one,' he'd said the year before, as Wood joined him in the stands after Chaser trials.

'I saved more than half his goals,' said Wood almost coldly.

He'd waved a hand. 'Did you watch him closely, Oliver? It's all in the eyes, you know.'

Wood rolled his own.

'Now look, Charlie,' Wood had reiterated as they walked out onto the pitch the next year, 'with all due respect and whatnot, you've got to stick with the hard _facts _this year. Number of successful goals and Quaffle passes for Chasers, obviously… Bludger-tackling prowess _specifically_ measured by the precise combination of force and direction – it's all vectors, you know, your brother Percy was explaining to me on our way to Charms the other day –'

He paused meaningfully in his soliloquy.

'What it comes down to, of course, is that you've got two Weasleys and two open Beater positions, and the others will protest if it's not all objective. Not that I'm worried about the twins, clearly the talent runs in the family – but you see what I mean. Supposedly the two second-year girls vying for the Chaser spot are best friends too, and only one of them can get it. Got to be careful –'

There was no denying this. In the end, though, he'd had to be subjective. The second-year girls had clearly outflown the competition, but even Wood's metrics had been insufficient for him to choose one over the other. On the whole, the Keeper had been astonished that his Captain had reached a decision so quickly.

'Johnson as Chaser, Spinnet as reserve,' Wood read off his clipboard. 'Why?' He'd sounded interested. "It was quite a toss-up, of course, but I thought you might pick Spinnet. Johnson's reverse pass was nice and tricky, I was really impressed, but you wouldn't want any of her teammates to drop it, of course –'

It hadn't been the reverse pass. She'd been returning to the ground after scoring a particularly nice goal, and he'd caught the expression on her face as she brushed a long black strand away from her face. She'd looked pleased but not too pleased, and a little thoughtful. Upon landing, she'd flexed her Quaffle arm a bit, looking almost like she was stretching, but not – he decided – exactly stretching. She'd been experimenting with a different throwing angle.

He'd liked her at once, and circled her name on the spot.

'Keep an eye on Alicia, though,' he'd told Wood confidentially – the man would be Captain after he left, there was no doubt of it – 'there'll be three of us leaving end of this year, you know that, and that means two open Chaser spots.'

'Absolutely,' said Wood proudly. 'I have a strange feeling it'll be all girls on the Chaser side next year, they're outscoring the boys like mad – it'll be some time before we get one as good as they said James Potter was, unless his son inherits the talent – getting to be Hogwarts age, I reckon."

---

She had thought it almost a crime that he'd chosen dragons over professional Quidditch, but then, so had the rest of the team. In the end, he'd sent an owl to Bill and discussed the letters from Romania and England over tea with Hagrid, and both had guided him toward the best choice. It had, however, been Angelina who had written him after the final match.

'We lost,' she'd said bluntly in the first line, appearing to have forgotten a 'Dear Charlie.' 'Oliver's in two minds about sending a Howler to your recruiting contact demanding an apology for setting the training schedule too early, or yelling at McGonagall for securing an early Hogwarts certificate for you. (I think she's starting to regret the decision herself – she's been sitting on the end of the staff table at every meal to avoid looking directly at Snape). George shrugged it off in the end though, saying we just need to make sure we find a good Seeker next year, and Fred – being Fred – is dealing with the humiliation by making fun of Oliver's pep talk.'

He'd smiled at this. She'd always been able to tell them apart with undeniable ease.

---

He threw himself unashamedly into the post-battle cleanup because he did not want to sit, did not want to think anymore. He paused on his way past the House tables, though, to kiss his mother on the top of the head. She said nothing, only touched his cheek with her free hand; Ginny, however, lifted her head from their mother's shoulder to give him a hug, and as he put his arm around his sister, she whispered something in his ear. He thought he caught the words 'Yule Ball,' 'Angelina,' and 'front doors.'

He did find her just outside the doors, kneeling in a patch of grass on the curse-cracked ground, retching. He massaged her back and shoulders, not ungently but with a good amount of pressure, as if attempting to revive her after a stray Bludger had unseated her mid-practice. _But he'd never have let it near her in the first place_, he thought, and shook his head, as if to Banish the painful idea from his mind.

When she stopped shaking, they sat together against the castle wall in silence.

'You're taller,' he said, breaking it after a minute or two.

'Don't think I've really grown since I was twelve or thirteen,' she replied after a pause, not really looking at him. 'Wouldn't expect you to remember though. It's been seven years.'

It had been. He couldn't say he knew her anymore, really – the slender Chaser with dark braids and sharp eyes whom he'd trained up from the beginning.

'Holyhead Harpies, I heard? Ginny was just bursting with the news.'

She nodded. 'She said Gwenog visited Hogwarts again, you know, last year. Slughorn's invite. Apparently she's taken quite a liking to your sister already.'

'It'd be nice for you two to play together again.'

She took a while before answering, but she looked at him this time. Her face was thinner than he'd remembered. 'I thought I was mad, signing with an all-female team. Thought it would drive me up the wall." Her gaze dropped, but her voice got harder, bitterer. "It does sometimes, but on the whole – it's better not to mix romance and Quidditch. I did it long enough, didn't I?'

He put his arm around her as he had with Ginny. He'd missed the girl's directness.

_Another angsty one, eh? My mind's obviously still on Fred/Angelina, but I thought I'd write a Charlie fic this time around. Reviews welcome, as always!_


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